Holstered

Amy's fingers curl in my hair, and then with one sharp upward buck of her hips and a downward wrenching of my head, she slams herself to the hilt. I moan as her balls are forced into my mouth, her entire cock lodged in my throat, pulsating.

“Suck my balls, faggot!” Amy growls forcefully, and I obediently cradle her jewels with my tongue. I roll my tongue gently around them, swallowing around her entire cock, the muscles of my throat stroking her meat from the hilt to the crown.

Her first pulse of cum pumps into my throat, another heavy load for my belly. My stomach hurts a bit from being so cum-stuffed, but I swallow nevertheless. I milk her cock with my throat, nursing on my best friend's balls as she unloads them.

“That's it, faggot, take it all, milk my fucking dick, fag!” she praises me, as her thick, heavy load makes my stomach fill to the absolute brim. I don't complain, because if this is all I'm going to get, I'm going to want to eat as much of it as I can get.

My eyes focus on hers as she looks down her body at me, smirking smugly as my lips press against her hips, swallowing on her cock rhythmically. I simply blink up at her, unable to smile with my lips stretched taut to accommodate Amy's jewels.

For a couple minutes, I simply hold my breath, swallowing as she unloads. When her hips relax, she drags my mouth down with her, because of the holstering. She pulls my hair hard enough it stings, forcibly removing her balls from my mouth.

“Ah, fuck, yes,” Amy sighs in satisfaction, pulling me up her cock until I gasp for air, “Good boy, faggot. Good little fag slut. How do you feel?” I smile at her lovingly, happy that she's calling me what I am, treating me how I deserve to be treated.

“Stuffed, I think I've got a stomachache from overeating,” I answer honestly, and Amy grins.

“You'll get used to it as you adjust to your new diet,” she tells me, using my hair to dry her prick, before stowing it back in her shorts, zipping up and buttoning. She motions backwards, and I back up obediently, standing when she motions me to.

“Hands, fag,” she orders. I smile as I offer my hands to her and she pulls herself to her feet, looking at me, “Stay. I'll get my keys and we'll go get you registered properly. Are you nervous, faggot?” I shake my head, smiling, and she seems pleased.

When she returns with her keys, I get in her car and buckle my safety belt, waiting as she does the same and then pulls out of the driveway. She glances over at me at the first stop sign, “Don't worry, by the way, fag. You won't suck me as I drive.”

“No?” I ask.

“Road head is hot to think about, but wildly fucking irresponsible,” she says, shaking her head, before grinning at me a bit and making a face. “Now if we're in a traffic jam and we're not goin' anywhere for twenty minutes ... then you'll suck it.”

I laugh softly and shrug. “Seems fair.”

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Author's Note:
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